


I Walk the Line

by fickleminder



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Family, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Spirits, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-08 09:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11643366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fickleminder/pseuds/fickleminder
Summary: The hijacked cargo is found stacked and piled neatly in a single heap. An unconscious Adrian Toomes lies propped up against one of the wooden crates, not a note or single strand of webbing in sight.(Alternatively, a supernatural take on the final events in Homecoming.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from.

Even without the frantic call from a so-called ‘guy in the chair’, the crash site of a plane that was supposed to have landed in upstate New York half an hour ago has Spider-Man written all over it.

When Happy Hogan leads the investigation team-cum-cleanup crew towards the wreckage on the burning beach, he already has an idea what to expect. Worst case scenario, his men dig up the charred corpse of a teenage boy and the next few months see stolen technology in supercharged weapons on the black market. Best case scenario, they recover the arc reactors with minimal losses and receive a gift wrapped Vulture as part of a wannabe Avenger’s résumé.

In the end, what actually happens turns out to be a little… anticlimactic.

The hijacked cargo is found stacked and piled neatly in a single heap. An unconscious Adrian Toomes lies propped up against one of the wooden crates, not a note or single strand of webbing in sight.

 

* * *

 

“I’m not picking up a location, not even a continent.”

“Caller ID?”

The look on Bucky’s face confirms Steve’s suspicion before he even shakes his head.

In a hidden apartment somewhere in Brooklyn, an innocuous looking cellphone continues to buzz and vibrate on the table. Whoever’s on the line has been there for almost ten minutes now. The device was a secure means of communication with their Wakandan allies; aside from a select few individuals, no one else should have been able to reach them through it.

“Just take the call.” Bucky returns his attention to the laptop in front of him and resumes typing. “I’ll keep trying to trace it, maybe we’ll have better luck then.”

Nodding, Steve presses ‘Accept’ and brings the cellphone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Find him,” a voice says before rattling out an address.

Steve frowns. “Who is this? How did you get this number?”

“Find him.”

“What are you talking about? Who are you?”

“Ben.”

And then the line goes dead.

 

* * *

 

May Parker lowers her newspaper at the sound of her nephew’s door opening. “Good afternoon, sleepyhead. How was homecoming last night?”

“S’okay,” Peter yawns, shuffling his way to the kitchen to fix himself some toast.

“Just ‘okay’? Did you have fun with Liz?”

Peter tenses slightly at the name. “Didn’t even get to dance with her,” he says after a few bites, and the sheer amount of misery in his tone makes May’s face fall in sympathy.

“Is that why you looked so dead on your feet when you got back last night? You were pretty quiet then. What happened?”

“It’s complicated. I don’t wanna talk about it.” Shoving the last piece of crust into his mouth, Peter slides off the chair and picks up his bag. “I’m heading to Ned’s. Love you May.”

The curt responses from her normally talkative nephew are telltale signs that something is definitely off, but May decides to let it go, at least for now. “Bring an extra jacket with you. It’s a little chilly today,” she tells him instead.

Peter swipes a discarded sweater off the couch before leaving, and May makes a mental note to call someone about the thermostat when the apartment seems to warm up again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a crappy week at work and I still haven't caught Moltres yet, but your generous comments helped me make it through. Thanks for the support you guys, I really appreciate it :)

“So that’s it? You’re telling me the plane just… dropped out of the sky?”

Adrian Toomes leans back in his seat, handcuffed wrists raising slightly. “Like I said, something dislodged the vacuum seal. I head outside to check and the next thing I know, the whole damn thing’s taking a nosedive towards the ground.”

“The trajectory’s off. There’s no way it could have hit the beach without slamming into half of Brooklyn along the way.”

“Whatever caused it to crash also steered it away to the side. I saw the wing flaps being pulled up.”

Colonel Rhodes raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You realize this is sounding more like a half-baked ghost story, right?”

“Might explain why something yanked me back when I was about to take off with the goods.” Adrian shrugs helplessly. “I swear I was alone on that beach. Then my flight suit malfunctioned and exploded. I blacked out after that.”

A low whistle. “Someone up there must really hate you.”

The Vulture flinches almost imperceptibly, a somewhat remorseful look flashing across his face. It’s the first true expression he’s shown, shattering the cool façade he put on since the start of the questioning. “Listen… there’s this warehouse my team and I worked in for a while. Base of operations and all that. It’s gone now, reduced to rubble, but you might want to check it out.”

“If you’re trying to lighten your sentence here ––”

“I’m not. Just want to ease my conscience, for what it’s worth.”

 

* * *

 

Searching for a needle in a haystack would be easier if they knew what the needle was, but in the end it takes all of fifteen minutes before they find it.

“I’ve got a pulse. It’s faint, and it won’t last long if he stays there. You lift, I’ll pull him out.”

For the first time in his godforsaken life, Bucky is grateful for his cybernetic arm as he heaves a shipping container just high enough that Steve can get to whoever’s trapped under it. From the corner of his eye, he spots a discarded red mask with a pair of goggles on the damp ground, and his stomach begins to sink.

Steve works quickly, not quickly enough, dragging a teenager out from under the debris and into open air. The homemade suit looks nothing like the sleek high-tech one they saw at the airport all those months ago, but there’s no mistaking who’s in it.

 _He’s just a kid_ , is Bucky’s first thought as he stares at the limp, broken body cradled in Steve’s arms.

 _Fucking Stark_ , is his second.

 

* * *

 

“Porn! I still can’t believe it. Of all the excuses I could’ve come up with…” Ned whines dejectedly. “Looks like I’ll be seeing you in detention for a while. You think Michelle will sketch me too if I ask nicely?”

Busy swapping books at his locker, Peter hums distractedly in response.

The hallways are abuzz with chatter and gossip, students trading stories from Homecoming night, mourning the start of another school week, whispering about Liz’s father getting arrested just the day before. It doesn’t help that Flash has been spreading word about Peter abandoning Liz at the dance, though none of her friends has given him shit about it. Yet.

_“-- heard he stole from the Avengers themselves --”_

_“-- saw that plane crash on Coney Island, it was so sick --”_

_“-- the ferry too, split it right in half --”_

_“-- bet she was in on it --”_

_BANG_

Ned jumps half a foot when Peter viciously slams his door shut. His lips are pursed and his knuckles white, fists trembling with the effort not to put a dent in the row of lockers. No one seems to pay them any attention, walking past the commotion as though it never happened.

“Sorry,” Peter murmurs, seeing the alarmed look on his best friend’s face. “We should get to class.”

“It’s cool man. You’ve had a rough past couple of days.” Ned holds his hand out for their signature handshake, a peace offering, only to drop it when Peter turns and walks away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve gotten a few guesses as to what’s happening with Peter and they’ve all been more or less on point. You guys are either really good or I’m really bad at plot. Let’s just go with the former :P

Iron Man personally oversees the operation.

The excavation team salvages damaged equipment and shredded papers, incriminating evidence of Toomes’ activities, but he couldn’t care less about any of that. There’s medevac on standby for if -- when? -- they find the kid, though at the rate things are progressing he isn’t sure if it’s going to be of much help.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. is piloting four additional suits remotely, helping to clear debris and reinforce structural integrity to prevent the wreckage from collapsing inwards. Piece by piece, the mountain of rubble is picked apart and leveled until no stone is left unturned.

Good news: there’s no fifteen year old lying dead under all that mess.

Bad news: there’s no trace of said fifteen year old, period.

 

* * *

 

“You sure it’s a good idea to bring him all the way there?”

“We’re not equipped to help him here and you know that. Besides, my arm’s due for a checkup anyway.”

 

* * *

 

After school hours normally see Spider-Man swinging out and about in Queens; on this particular afternoon however, Peter Parker finds himself skipping decathlon practice not to suit up and go on patrol, but to rest on a bench in a nearby park and sort himself out.

He’s tired, he really is. Peter feels like he’s been disconnected from everything around him, and all he wants to do is take a break. May and Ned haven’t said a word about it, but he can tell they’re worried. He’s been listless for the past few days; Michelle keeps squinting at him as though she can’t tell whether he’s there or not, and Flash doesn’t even acknowledge him anymore, no snide remarks or name calling whatsoever.

The decathlon team doesn’t need him. They proved that by winning the championship in D.C. without his ditching ass. And shirking his responsibilities as the local superhero weighs on his conscience, but it can’t compare to the guilt from tearing Liz’s family apart. He couldn’t even see her off as she packed her things and left Midtown School with her mother, couldn’t even apologize for stranding her in the middle of the dance floor without her promised date.

For the umpteenth time, Peter tries to convince himself that turning Toomes in was the right thing to do. Who knows how many more people would’ve gotten hurt if the Vulture had successfully hijacked that plane? He tells himself to feel proud of the fact that he thwarted those plans, that he did it without the suit Mr. Stark had taken away, but all he can remember is the concrete grinding his bones to dust, the pitch black darkness sucking the air from his lungs, the g-forces threatening to tear him into pieces and shred his webs and send him plummeting to the ground like the time he was flung into the lake and the parachute dragged him under and he couldn’t see anything and _he was going to die alone somebody help him PLEASE --_

“Just breathe, son.”

Gasping, Peter whips his head to the side to see a man -- when did he get there? -- sitting on the other end of the bench, face and upper body obscured by an open newspaper. His voice sounds familiar, eliciting a dull pang of nostalgia, but Peter’s head is too muddled to place it at the moment.

“You look like you’ve got a lot on your plate. Everything okay at school?”

“Y-yes sir.” Peter swallows, willing his heart to stop racing. The stranger’s tone is soothing, grounding, helping him to breathe a little easier. A few minutes pass in silence; the man continues to read his paper while Peter mentally counts backwards from a thousand in multiples of seven until the sharp ache in his chest eases somewhat.

“Go on home and get some rest,” the man says after a while. “Pet a cat or something. That always calms me down.”

A quick glance at his watch reminds him that it’s getting late, and Peter shoulders his bag before standing up to leave. His hands still tremble slightly, but at least his knees no longer feel like giving out on him. “Alright. Have a nice day sir.”

The stranger doesn’t reply. Peter plugs in his music as he walks home, googling images of big cats in Africa.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay. Work's been kicking my ass lately :(

May looks like she can’t decide whether to slap him or slam the door in his face.

Fortunately for Tony, she does neither.

“Where’s your nephew, May? He hasn’t been by the tower in a while. Too many extra-curricular activities after school?” If May wasn’t practically radiating silent indignation, Tony would probably be more surprised when she rips him a new one.

“If I recall correctly, you were the one who dropped him from the internship,” she snaps. “Peter didn’t tell me much, but that boy put a lot of effort into it. He quit marching band and robotics lab and for what? I’m not asking you to take him back, but you should know he was really torn up about it.”

Anger? Check. Righteous fury? Double check. Any hints of worry or concern? Zip, nada, zilch. “See, that’s what I’m here about. The internship. There’s been a bit of a misunderstanding, and I’d like to talk to Peter to clear things up.”

“Why don’t you get -- Happy, was it? -- to pick him up after school then?”

_Because no one has seen the kid since Toomes was brought in_ , Tony thinks. It isn’t for lack of trying either; Peter’s room has been empty since he sent a drone to check up on him the night they cleared the warehouse. Something’s jamming his phone so that’s out, F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s facial recognition scans throughout New York City aren’t giving him any results, and he hasn’t stooped so low as to bug the entire apartment even though for some reason, May doesn’t seem to realize that her nephew has been missing for days.

“You know what? Peter will talk to you when he’s ready,” she decides after Tony takes a little too long to answer, already beginning to usher him towards the door. “Until then, don’t come back.”

“Just, one last thing before I go.” Tony manages to squeeze in before getting unceremoniously kicked out. “Has Peter been home at all recently?”

“Of course. I just saw him off to school this morning. Goodbye, Mr. Stark.”

Then she slams the door in his face.

 

* * *

 

It’s another afternoon with decathlon practice, so naturally Peter finds himself wandering aimlessly along the streets of New York City, this time in Brooklyn.

Spider-Man hasn’t been sighted in almost two weeks now. There was even a short article in the Daily Bugle a few days ago speculating why the local superhero has mysteriously vanished into thin air. Peter barely made it past the first sentence before flipping the page guiltily.

So much for staying close to the ground and helping out the little guy. He can’t even help himself, not when nightmares constantly jar him awake in the middle of the night, sending him into hyperventilating fits. They’ve gotten better recently, and sometimes he even feels the urge to put on his suit again and go for a swing across the city. That always helps him to relax, but considering his body hasn’t been getting the rest it deserves after the whole Vulture fiasco, Peter doesn’t feel like painting a red and blue splat on the walls of a building or the sidewalk.

At least, that’s what he tells himself. He knows he can’t run forever; he received his powers for a reason, and it’s his job to stop the bad things from happening if he can help it. He needs to pull himself together, needs to take that first step --

The hairs on the back of Peter’s neck abruptly stand up.

He whips his head around, scanning his surroundings for potential threats, body tense and ready to spring into action. There’s a screech of tires and then he sees it: one of those fancy sports cars speeding down the road past the red light and towards an old man in the middle of the pedestrian crossing.

Peter’s first instinct is to web the guy and yank him out of the way. He’s within range to pull it off, but ignoring the fact that he’ll have to kiss his secret identity goodbye, he realizes too late that he doesn’t even have his web shooters on him. A shout of warning is lodged in his throat, paralyzing him because no one is doing anything, they’re just standing there and it isn’t until the gasps and screams reach him that he decides to stop thinking and _move_.

There’s no pain when the car slams into his side, just a small jolt that sends a ripple through his entire being. He blinks once to find himself sprawled on the ground, one hand outstretched where he had pushed the old man away. He’s staring at the clear blue skies, framed by the reflective windows and steel architectures of Brooklyn’s buildings. Panic fills him briefly when he realizes he can’t move, he can’t even feel his body, he can’t feel _anything_ , and darkness is creeping over the edges of his vision --

Something is pressed into the palm of his hand, curling his fingers over it and squeezing lightly. The sensation makes him open his eyes again, this time to the sound of a voice he’s heard far too long ago.

“I’m proud of you, Peter.”

_Uncle Ben?_

Flickering in and out of consciousness, Peter struggles to stay awake, to hold on to his uncle’s presence. The next time he blinks however, he sees the blurry faces of Captain America and the Winter Soldier hovering uncertainly over him.

“Kid, you with us?”

After that, his eyelids refuse to cooperate anymore, so Peter lets them shut and drifts off.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Time to tie up loose ends and brings things back to canon(-ish).

It’s amazing what a healing factor can do when assisted by Wakandan tech. Broken bones, dislocated joints, torn ligaments, punctured organs… all reset, realigned, and good as new in less than 48 hours.

Bucky watches the figure tucked in snugly on their couch, wondering if 20 bpm is normal for an enhanced teen in a coma. It’s hard to say what’s normal anymore; to be honest he’s more concerned about how he and Steve are supposed to take care of the kid while staying under the radar. Spider-Man may be Stark’s responsibility, but he’s from Queens too, and they look out for their own.

“Staring isn’t going to make him wake up any sooner, you know.”

Accepting the mug of tea being handed to him, Bucky gives a nod in thanks. “It worked when you were waiting for the lab coats to fix whatever Hydra did to my head. Figured I’d give it a shot.”

Steve hums thoughtfully. “It’s only been two days since we got back though. You’re going to be there for a while.”

“Fair’s fair. Don’t forget, we both took a turn at the frozen hibernation thing too.”

As if on cue, the temperature of the air drops five degrees.

The two men are on their feet in an instant, standing back-to-back with a handgun cocked and fists raised. The apartment is still, the only sounds coming from late afternoon traffic on the roads outside, and neither of them moves for several tense seconds. The room warms again just as suddenly, and Bucky barely stops himself from putting a bullet into the prone form on their couch when it jerks awake with a gasp and nearly throws the covers off.

Steve is already kneeling at his side, one hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Kid, you with us?” He asks as Bucky puts the gun away and joins them. There’s no response with the teen falling back into unconsciousness, but two fingers at his neck confirms that his heart rate has at least returned to normal levels.

“Looks like he’s just sleeping now. You think he’ll be okay?”

“I hope so. We should --” Steve pauses in the middle of readjusting the jostled blanket. There’s a crumpled piece of paper in the kid’s hand, one that was definitely not there when they brought him back to the apartment. Smoothing it out reveals another address, this time in Queens.

Exchanging looks with Steve, Bucky shrugs. “Well, it’s a school night. Guess we gotta send him home.”

 

* * *

 

Tony hears the alarm before he even sees the flashing red lights on his monitor.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., what’s going on?”

“Sensors are detecting a jammer at the Parker residence. Attempting to reestablish connection.”

Pulling out a keyboard, Tony prepares to hack into his own drone to counteract the signal disruption. He doesn’t get far, not when F.R.I.D.A.Y. reports back in less than a minute.

“Systems all green, boss. Restoring visual feed now.”

“Do a sweep of the kid’s room while you’re at it.”

There’s no telling what could have happened in the precious few seconds they went offline. As Tony runs through a mental list of potential people with the resources to mess with his tech, his mind spirals into the worst case scenarios anticipating the possible outcomes: a thrashed apartment, maybe the mangled corpse of a missing teenage boy dumped on the floor, or even --

Peter Parker in his bed under the covers, sleeping comfortably as though he never left. A quick scan from the drone returns healthy vitals, closed windows, and lights switched off. There’s a small blip on Tony’s screen indicating that Peter’s phone is where it should be, on the bedside table charging.

Exhaling heavily in disbelief, Tony sags into his chair and rubs at his temples. It’s a mystery just begging to be solved, but he figures he’s aged ten too many years in the past week to do right now. Besides, he has a hunch; four inches long and sitting quietly in a corner of his workshop, untouched since arriving in the mail all those months ago.

He takes a moment before getting to work, cranking up his music and pulling out the draft schematics for the Iron Spider suit, calling Dum-E to prepare a fresh pot of coffee for the night.

 

* * *

 

“Peter, are you awake? You don’t want to be late for school!”

The teen in question slowly blinks his eyes open, squinting blearily at the sunlight filtering through the curtains. “I’m up!” He calls back, breaking into a loud yawn at the end.

Stretching his arms over his head, Peter sighs lazily before dragging himself out of bed. He doesn’t remember coming home after school yesterday; he must have been more tired than he thought and decided to call it an early night. He feels more rested this morning though, feels a little more energetic about taking on another day.

After wolfing down a quick breakfast, Peter is packing his bag when his gaze lands on one of the drawers at his desk. He thinks of Uncle Ben for some reason, and this time there’s no hesitation as he retrieves and pockets a few packs of webbing. He opens the windows to air his room before leaving, and doesn’t see the silent drone flying away when his back is turned.

May sends him off with a kiss to the cheek. Peter hugs her back, holding on for just a little longer before letting go.

“I’ll see you after school. Love you May!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hit me up on [tumblr](https://fickleminder.tumblr.com) if you wanna chat :)


End file.
